


This Thing Called Life

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universes, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 00:00:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stuff happens.<br/>This story is a sequel to Affinity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Thing Called Life

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Kimberly for the first beta. I changed alot since then with much help from Gayle -- thanks bud! Finally, Kathleen helped with SO much -- she's da bomb! Thanks!   
>  Somehow, I guess I made a series, but I have no idea what to call it. Thanks to everyone who wrote after the other two stories. This is for you.   
> Feedback is good. 

## This Thing Called Life

by Sheryl

* * *

This Thing Called Life   
by Sheryl 

"Whoa there, Dirty Harry. I hope you've got the safety on that thing." 

Blair felt his face grow warm and lowered the weapon. "I do, man, I do. It isn't even loaded, anyway." 

"You know, guns are not toys, Chief," Jim told him with mock sternness. 

"Very funny. I'll have you know Joel showed me how to do this." Blair twirled the gun and caught it again before putting it back into the holster. 

"Right. Well, I'm heading over to the library. I shouldn't be too long." 

"Wait, wait, wait! Hold on a minute." Blair stood in front of his partner, blocking his exit. "I'm not sure I heard you correctly. Did you say that you're going to the...library?" 

"Yeah, the library," Jim answered nonchalantly, looking down at Sandburg with a slightly arrogant expression. "You got a problem with that?" 

"No, no problem here." Blair chuckled. "It's just that, well, today isn't Wednesday. You do know that, right?" 

"I know it's not Wednesday." 

"Well, I just thought...you know...I didn't want you to have your hopes all up for Storytelling Hour then have them dashed..." 

"Watch it!" Jim cut him off, narrowing his eyes. "I hate to tell you this, Darwin, but normal people go to the library sometimes, too." 

"Sorry, sorry!" Blair laughed, holding up his hands as he backed away from his larger counterpart. "You're right, normal people do go to the library. Not that I'd exactly refer to you as normal, Oh Great Sentinel, but hey, if you want to go to the library, I think that's great. Go...read...enhance your knowledge. You know, a mind is a terrible thing to waste." 

"You're such a dick, Sandburg." Jim growled and half-heartedly lunged for him, but Blair was ready and easily faked to the left before escaping in the other direction. 

"Guess what? They have computers there now, Jim! No more looking things up in those old index card catalogues like the last time you were there." Blair laughed and hurried up the stairs. "You do have a library card, don't you? If not, you can borrow mine." 

"I have a library card." He thought he did, anyway and if he didn't, he'd just get himself one, because there was no way in hell he'd ever admit anything to the wise-ass at the top of the stairs. 

"Okay, well don't get lost." 

"A real Bob Hope today, aren't ya, Chief?" Jim slid into his jacket and grabbed his keys from the basket. "I'll be back in a little while, unless maybe I find some nice, cute brainiac type. You know, someone who will appreciate all of my wonderful qualities and treat me a lot better than some people do." 

"Ha!" Blair looked down from over the railing. "Have fun and say hello to Ms. Hildegarde for me!" 

"Yeah, yeah, Ms. Hildegarde," he muttered on his way out the door. "Try not to shoot yourself while I'm gone." 

Only a few minutes later, Blair heard a knock at the door. He trotted down the stairs, thinking Jim had probably gotten out to his truck and checked his wallet to find that he really didn't have a library card. With a smile, he opened the door and found two men dressed in dark trench coats. Each quickly flashed their badges in front of him and pushed their way inside. 

"Blair Sandburg?" 

"Uhh...yeah," he answered hesitantly. Interesting timing guys. You didn't by chance intentionally wait for the bigger guy to leave, did ya? 

"I'm Federal Agent Michaels and this is Agent Johanson." 

Michaels was an older man, tall and slender, with silver hair. Johanson was shorter and stockier; he looked about fifteen to twenty years younger than Michaels. The man had red hair, a ruddy complexion and what Blair thought, were cold, distant looking blue eyes. 

"What's this all about?" Blair asked, trying to sound slightly imposed upon and defiant, the way he'd seen Jim react the Feds so many times. 

"We'd like to ask you a few questions about Naomi Sandburg. She's your mother, am I correct?" Michaels explained with an overly pleasant smile. 

"Yes, she is my mother, but seriously guys, I don't know anything. I mean, I don't know where she is, I haven't spoken with her or heard from her since...since the last time you guys questioned me." 

"Mr. Sandburg, it seems your mother attempted to correspond with you through e-mail." 

"She did? Well, if she did, that's news to me. Look, I don't know what you're referring to because I never received any message from my mother." 

"We just intercepted it today, not too long ago. We traced the message to a mall in Seattle," the agent said, keeping his eyes trained on Blair and watching for any reaction. 

"Wow, Seattle? Are you sure? I thought..." What the hell is she doing in Seattle? 

"You thought what, Mr. Sandburg?" 

"I don't know, I guess I just assumed she was out of the country. That's all." Blair shrugged, his mind searching for possibilities of what his mother might be doing so close to Cascade. 

"Well, it would seem she's not out of the country; and we'd like very much to find her. Do you know of anywhere she might be hiding in that vicinity? Any friends or relatives she may contact, other than yourself?" 

"Umm..." Blair gulped then looked up with wide eyes. "No, nobody I can think of." 

The two agents glanced meaningfully at each other. "Are you certain?" Michaels asked. "Think hard, Mr. Sandburg." 

Blair nodded. "Look, we've been through this already and honestly, I can't think of anyone. Naomi has lots of friends that I don't even know, though." 

"All right, then." The agents looked at each other again and Michaels nodded toward the door. "We'll be in touch, Mr. Sandburg. You can count on that." 

Michaels followed Johanson to the door and turned again toward Blair before leaving. "You'd better be telling the truth. If we find out you're withholding information..." 

"I know, I know. It's been great talking with you guys." Blair quickly shut and locked the door. He let out a huge breath and leaned back. Jesus Jim, of all the times you could pick to go to the damn library. 

He felt shaky. The Feds always made him nervous for some reason, even before the situation with Naomi. Maybe it was because they always made Jim uneasy. He wondered if what they had told him was true. Was Naomi in Washington? Why would she take such a chance? She had to know the Feds would be keeping an eye on him. 

Tea. First he needed some tea to help him relax; then he needed to check his email. 

Putting the kettle of water on the stove, he wiped the counter down again. It didn't really look messy and Jim had probably already wiped it down earlier, but he needed something to do. Once he was done with that he picked a recipe book from the shelf. The Moosewood Turkish Cookbook. 

He paged through the book, looking for something interesting but not too far-out. It had to be something he could get Jim to eat. He smiled when he finally came across the perfect recipe --Turkish Spinach-Lentil Stew. 

The whistle from the teakettle shrilled, so he left the recipe book open on the counter and poured some hot water into his mug. Taking a deep breath, he fired up the laptop to check his messages. He set the cup of tea on the table, but he still could not sit down. 

He shook his head, amused at his hesitation. Apparently he wasn't as ready as he'd thought. He was unsure as to why he was stalling, but realized he was simply delaying the inevitable. If the Feds said there was a message, perhaps there really was a message. It was probably a good thing Jim wasn't here to give him a hard time. He took another deep breath and decided he'd go to the bathroom first and then read his messages. Actually, while he was in there, he may as well take a quick shower too, he thought. Then he'd be ready. 

* * *

Blair scrolled down for the second time, deleting insignificant messages as he went along - No, he didn't need a credit card. Yes, he could use a college diploma - - a Ph.D. to be exact -- still, he found nothing from Naomi. He wondered if being that the Feds opened the message from another computer, possibly they hadn't saved it the way they should have and now, he wouldn't be able to retrieve his own email. 

He thought about emailing Naomi to tip her off that her messages weren't coming through, but figured they'd probably intercept that too. He got up and poured a little more hot water into his mug, wondering when Jim would return home and debating whether or not he wanted to finish up with the rest of his email. 

Before he could sit down at the table again, the phone rang. 

"Hello?" Glancing again the recipe book, he opened the cupboard door, checking to make sure they had rosemary and lentils. He pulled down a bag that appeared to be lentils and at the same moment the caller spoke, the contents of the bag spilled out, raining lentils everywhere. 

"Blair? This is Stephen. I need to speak with Jim." 

"Hey, Stephen," he greeted as he looked at the mess around him. "Sorry, but Jim's not here right now." 

"Oh..." there was a long pause. "Uh...I'm at the hospital. They just brought Dad in. He's been...shot." 

"What? Did you say shot?" Blair ran a hand through his hair, a myriad of questions running through his mind. 

"Yeah, we were standing outside the office building and all of a sudden there was this loud bang and Dad just went down." 

"Oh my God. Is he...?" 

"He's alive, that's about all I know. He was shot in the upper chest, I think near the shoulder. I'm not sure how bad it is. They haven't given me very many details. Do you know where Jim is?" 

"He went to the library," Blair rolled his eyes, making a mental note to never allow him to go there again. "I'll try him on his cell-phone. Are you at Cascade General?" 

"Yeah, here comes a doctor now, Blair. I better go. I'll see you guys when you get here." 

Blair hung up the phone and dialed Jim's cell number. It sort of shocked and amused him that Stephan just assumed they'd both show up at the hospital, but he was too worried about the situation at hand to contemplate the statement any further. 

"Ellison." 

"Jim, man, where are you?" 

"Miss me already?" 

"No...I mean yeah, of course I did. Jim, there's something I have to tell you..." 

"Don't tell me. You're pregnant." Blair heard Jim chuckle at his little quip and wished he had something else to tell him. 

"Jim, come on man, this is serious." 

"Okay, Chief. I'm pulling up in front of the building even as we speak. I'll be up in a minute." 

"Hold on, Jim. Let me get my shoes and I'll be right down. I'll explain when I get there." He paused only a second to take in the lentil-strewn kitchen then quickly put his shoes on; grabbed his coat and was out the door. 

* * *

"What? What do you mean, shot?" Jim stared at him with an uncomprehending expression, immediately assuming the worst. 

"Jim, he's alive. That's all I can tell you. Stephen didn't really know anything more." Blair had always been told he was good at breaking bad news to people, but he hated having to give this sort of news to Jim. "I think...maybe I should drive." 

Jim snorted and shifted into 'drive'. "Think again, buddy boy." 

"You sure you're okay?" 

Jim gave him a 'Don't be ridiculous' look and pulled into the lunch-hour traffic. "So, what exactly did Stephen say?" 

"I already told you. He didn't know much yet. They'll probably have more information by the time we get to the hospital." 

* * *

They'd been at the hospital for almost two hours. William had been in surgery for over an hour and there was no indication of how much longer he might still be under. 

Blair sat in between Jim and Stephen, feeling very uncomfortable. Neither had said much of anything to the other and Blair had all but given up any attempt to make small talk. 

"Simon!" he called out, practically flinging himself from the chair the moment he spotted the captain stepping off of the elevator. "Thank God you're here!" he muttered softly as he escorted the man back toward the waiting brothers. 

Simon raised a questioning eyebrow. "What's going on?" 

"Nothing. Never mind, I'll tell ya later." 

"Jim, Stephen." Simon Banks nodded at them both. "How's your father doing?" 

"He's still in surgery, Sir," Jim replied. "The doctors said it wouldn't take long, barring any unforeseen complications. What time is it, Chief?" 

"Five minutes since the last time you asked. Ten after one." 

Jim nodded, not even acknowledging the first remark. "Any news, Sir?" 

"Well, those two Feds, Stone and Siglin, stopped in looking for Sandburg," he began, glancing apologetically to Blair. "They say The Beings Of Light are claiming responsibility for your father's shooting." 

"What?" Jim shook his head not seeming able to process the information. 

"That's what they're claiming, Jim," Simon Banks explained, regretting that he had to do so in the presence of Sandburg. "It's a little strange though. Apparently, in the past the group makes a threat then carries through. They aren't in the habit of coming out and claiming responsibility after the fact. So, the Feds are still looking into the claim, they're not convinced." 

"Right," Blair spoke up, looking thoughtful. "They've already publicly made the CEO threat and haven't actually taken responsibility on any other individual case. That is a little strange." 

"Another thing that doesn't make any sense is the fact that my father's corporation...it isn't some big, fucking billion dollar global corporation, like those others. Why the hell would they even bother? It just doesn't fit." 

"You're right, Jim," the captain agreed, sighing. "I wish I had more for you, but that's all the information I've been given." 

"Maybe this had something to do with those other two Feds that stopped by earlier?" Blair surmised, seeming to speak to no one in particular. 

"Two Feds, Chief?" 

Blair looked up and shrugged. "Yeah, I guess I forgot to tell you I had a couple visitors earlier. They were asking questions about Naomi." 

"What kind of questions?" Jim prompted. 

"The usual. Oh, they did say something about intercepting and tracing an email from her, which supposedly originated from some mall in Seattle. They wanted to know if I knew of anyone she might be staying with." 

"I haven't heard anything about this." Simon chewed on the end of his cigar, giving Blair a puzzled look. 

"You really should tell me these things, Chief." Jim said, slightly annoyed. 

"Hey, sorry. I guess it slipped my mind with everything else going on." 

"Anything else slip your mind?" Jim smiled sardonically at his partner. 

"No, Jim," Blair answered coolly. 

Jim looked away, his jaw muscles clenching. "So, what the hell is Naomi doing hanging around here, Chief?" 

Blair blinked hard. "What? How am I supposed to know?" 

"She's your mother." The tone was accusatory. 

With eyes narrowed, Blair took a step closer to Jim. "Look, if you got something to say to me, just come out and say it." 

Jim pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the makings of a killer headache coming on. "Just forget it, Chief. I just..." he made a vague gesture with his hands.   
Blair nodded, shoved his hands in his pockets and took a step back. 

"What were these agents names? You remember them, don't you? What time did you speak with them?" Simon asked, taking a notepad and pen out of his inside pocket. 

"Sure, Simon. Their names were Michaels and Johanson. It was around 9:00, right after breakfast. Jim had just left for the library." 

Simon nodded and jotted down the names. "What'd they look like?" 

While Blair began giving Simon his usual elaborate description of the men, Stephen nudged his older brother in the arm. "Does this have something to do with what happened to Dad?" 

"Ahhh...I'm not sure Stephen. It could be just a coincidence." Jim paused. "What time did you say that the shooting occurred?" 

"I don't think I did say, but it was around 10:15, maybe 10:30. Why?" 

"I'm just trying to get the details. It's a little strange for two Feds to show up at the loft on the same day that an attempt is made on my father's life. But, then again, maybe I'm just being para...overly suspicious." He looked over at Blair, who was watching Simon as he spoke on the pay telephone. Simon was shaking his head sternly, glancing at Blair and writing something in his notebook. Jim tuned his hearing in to find out who was on the other end of the line. It was Joel Taggert. 

"What would two Feds showing up before the shooting have to do with anything?" Stephan asked. 

"I don't know, probably nothing." Jim waved a hand, hoping to stave off any further questions. 

"Joel's going to check out those two agents," Simon explained as he hung up the phone. "Are you sure they were FBI agents, Sandburg?" 

"Well...they showed me badges, but I didn't get that close of a look at them, I don't know. I mean...they seemed like Feds. I guess I just assumed they were." 

"Anyone can get a phony badge, Chief. You should know that," Jim admonished. 

"I know that," Blair admitted, resigned. He would have liked to remind them of the Gustavo Alconte incident involving the Feds, but didn't feel the need to bring up other's mistakes to justify his own. 

"Right." Jim looked away. 

"I don't know about the rest of you, but I could use a cup of coffee." Simon walked over and draped an arm around Blair's shoulder. "Jim? Stephen?" 

"Sure, I could use a cup," Stephen said with a shrug. "What about you, Jim?" 

"Nah. I'm good." Jim turned away from them and stared down the hospital corridor. 

"Okay, come on, kid. Let's go get some coffee." Simon led Blair away. It was his good deed of the day. Ellison was in one of his moods and he had the feeling that Sandburg was going to suffer for it. 

Blair was used to Jim's darker moods, the way he sometimes got cold and distant; but this was the first time since their relationship had changed that he had shown this side. 

Blair suddenly felt uncertain of everything. Was it possible that Jim blamed Naomi for what happened to his father? Maybe he no longer felt the same way about Blair. And what could he say? He wasn't entirely certain of Naomi's part in any of these crimes. 

"Come on, Blair. You know how he gets," Simon consoled in a low voice. 

"Sure, Simon. Don't worry about me," Blair said, making an attempt to sound cheerful. "I know he's just worried about his dad and...well, it was pretty stupid of me to let those guys in the loft." 

"Yeah, but anybody could have made the same mistake. " 

* * *

Jim couldn't explain the way he was feeling. He was angry that his dad was lying on a gurney in the OR. He was angry at whoever was responsible for the shooting, angry at Naomi for having any sort of ties with these people, for not making clear what ties she had or didn't have with them. 

He knew it was wrong, he knew Blair had nothing to do with this, but for some reason, he kept taking out his frustration on his partner. Was it because he happened to be Naomi's son, or was it just because Blair was convenient? 

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he let out a heavy sigh. He had to go find Blair. "Stephen, listen, I gotta..." He was interrupted when the door of the surgical unit swung open. 

"Mr. Ellison?" Both of their heads turned toward the approaching doctor, who was pulling off his surgical cap and brushing his hair back. "I'm Dr. Harter." 

"Jim Ellison, this is my brother, Stephen." 

Stephan nodded and held out a hand in greeting. 

"How's he doing?" Jim asked pensively, skipping the handshake. 

'He's going to be fine," Harter told them, patting Stephan on the arm. "Can we sit down?" The doctor gestured toward a small, empty lounge and ushered the two Ellisons inside. 

* * *

When Simon and Blair got back to the surgical ward, Jim and Stephen were still in the lounge. The door was opened a crack and they could hear Jim's voice, so they took a seat outside in the hall. 

About ten minutes later, the two brothers and the surgeon exited the small room. 

"He came through okay," Jim told them. "Right now he's in recovery, but they'll be moving him to a private room shortly." 

"Whew, that's good to know," Blair said as he stood up and offered his chair. 

"He was pretty fortunate," Stephen picked up with the details. "The doctor said the bullet just missed his lung. There was some tissue and muscle damage, but nothing that should cause any lasting effects. He should be able to go home in a couple days." 

"That's great. So, you should be able to see him soon?" Blair asked, looking up at Jim. 

"Yeah, as soon as he's settled in his own room. Probably in an hour or two," he answered. "Hey, Chief. Uhh...can I talk to you?" He smiled apologetically at Simon and his brother and escorted Blair down the hall a ways. 

"Is there something wrong?" 

"Nah, I just wanted to say..." Jim stared up at the ceiling for a moment, before meeting Blair's eyes with a sheepish expression. "Well, sorry about being such a dick, earlier." 

Blair nodded thoughtfully then smiled, big blue guileless eyes gazing up at his partner. "That's okay Jim. I'm used to it." 

"Thanks a lot." 

"Anytime." 

"I guess part of me is sort of holding Naomi responsible for this, even though I know..." 

"Jim, you don't really think Naomi had anything to do with this, do you?" 

Jim couldn't look the younger man in the eye. Neither one of them really knew anything about what she was involved with. For all he knew, his father was intentionally singled out simply because of his connection with Sandburg? The thought made more sense than he wanted to admit, but even if that were true, Blair was an innocent in the whole chess match, a pawn by virtue of who his mother was. 

"Jim? You don't think Naomi is behind this, do you?" 

Jim cleared his throat and finally forced himself to look at Blair. "Hell, Chief, I don't know. I mean, we don't really know anything about Naomi's involvement with any of this. But listen, I'm not blaming you for any of it..." 

"Oh really? Well, that's nice of you, Jim." 

"Come on, Blair. I'm not accusing anyone of anything." 

"No, you're just holding my mother responsible for this. Guilty until proven innocent?" 

"Blair, I'm not holding her responsible. I'm just saying we don't really know if she is responsible in any way." 

"That sounds like the same thing to me, Jim." 

"Well, it's not. And why is it that my father was singled out? Have you thought about that? All of the other CEO's this group has made assassination attempts against, have been high profile, global corporation exec's. My father is in a different league, it just doesn't make any sense." 

"Well, gee Jim, it sounds like you've got the whole thing worked out!" 

"Come on, Chief. I'm just thinking out loud here." 

"You know something Jim? I-I think I'm going to get out of here for a while. I'll just catch a cab and head on back to the loft and check my messages and stuff." 

"Blair! Come on, don't do this. I love you. I don't want us to be like this." 

Blair stared at his partner for a long moment and his anger faded slightly. "I don't either. I just need a little space right now, okay? And you and Stephen need to catch up anyway and visit with your dad, then hopefully everything will settle down. I'll be back later, okay?" 

Jim wanted to protest, but Blair had a point and besides, he knew from experience that when Blair had a lot on his mind, he usually liked to be alone and work things out. Not to mention that Jim didn't fully trust himself not to make any more offensive remarks about Naomi. He always seemed to put his foot in his mouth, especially when he was trying not to. "Okay, but here, take the truck." 

"That's okay, I don't want to leave you without transportation. I'll just get a cab, it's no problem." 

"Chief," Jim closed the distance between them. "I really am sorry. You know I love you, right?" 

"I know. Me too, Jim. See you later." 

* * *

It was close to four in the afternoon when Blair finally made it back to the loft. He turned on the computer as soon as he closed the door and tried to ignore, for the moment anyway, the mess of lentils that hadn't cleaned itself up in his brief absence. He put the kettle on the stove to make himself some tea. 

"Okay, Naomi, let's see if you've got anything to say." 

* * *

"Hey, Pop. You're lookin' good," Jim said as he tentatively approached the man lying in the hospital bed. He did look good, amazingly good for a man who had just been shot and gone through surgery. But then, Jim couldn't ever remember his dad looking anything but neatly groomed and in control. He was attached to a cardiac monitor and an IV tube, but that was to be expected. 

"Jimmy! I'm so glad to see you. How are you?" The elder Ellison struggled to shift position, winced a little then relaxed. 

"Much better, now that we know you're going to be okay." 

"Well, of course, I'm going to be okay. I'm not going to let those bastards keep me down." 

"Those bastards, Pop? Do you know who did this?" 

His father struggled again to sit up a little further and Jim quickly moved to arrange the pillows comfortably. 

"No, Jimmy. I wish I did know." 

Jim wondered if the acceleration of his father's heart rate was due to the exertion of sitting up, or something else. 

"If you even think you know who might have done this, you should tell me. You would tell me, wouldn't you?" 

"Of course I would. So, where's your little hippie friend?" the elder Ellison asked looking behind his son as if he expected Blair to be lurking somewhere in the background. 

"Blair? He went home a little while ago." 

"Oh, good. That's good," William commented and a second later seemed startled that he'd said it aloud. "Oh...I didn't mean any offense, Jimmy. You know that, right? I understand he's your friend, but frankly, if you don't mind my saying, the boy makes me uneasy." 

Unnoticed by William Ellison, his son's entire demeanor changed. Almost anyone who knew the detective would have backed off immediately, but William didn't seem to take heed. 

"I'm sure he's a nice enough boy, but I just can't help it...he makes me nervous. He's always hanging about and touching you and I can't even remember the last time I saw you alone -- without him." 

"We're partners, roommates...he's my best friend, Dad." 

"I don't know if you've noticed this, Jimmy, but I've seen the way he looks at you," William remarked pointedly, arching an eyebrow. "I think he has a thing for you." 

Jim blinked hard and coughed, covering his mouth to hide his grin. He half expected the Candid Camera guy to jump out at him. Then, he furrowed his brow to exude sincerity. "Well, you know, now that I think about it...you may be on to something there." 

"See? I'm so glad you've noticed, too. You need to watch out for those types, Jimmy." 

"You're right, Pop. Thanks." God, Blair was going to laugh his ass off when he heard this one. 

"You know...it might be a good idea...maybe you could set him up with someone. Some nice young girl, you know what I mean? Then, possibly he wouldn't be so...clingy all of the time. Who knows, he might even fall for this other person, then you'd, at least, have him off your back." 

"I dunno, Dad, I've gotten used to having Sandburg around. I really don't mind having him on my back." He paused in contemplation, not really believing he was about to say -- what he was about to say. "To be honest, I don't think I'd like it at all if he fell for someone else. In fact, I'd probably have to kick his ass because..." God, was this really coming out of his mouth? "He's mine. Blair is mine and I'm not about to share." Jim held his breath and waited for the lightening to strike. 

His father seemed to be mulling over the information. After a moment he looked up at Jim with a puzzled expression. "You mean...you and the hippie boy?" 

"Yeah." Jim smiled contentedly. Yep, him and the beautiful hippie boy. 

"You're kidding?" 

"Nope, not kidding." 

"This is something you...want?" 

"Oh yeah. I've wanted it for a long time." Not that you could have been able to tell by the shitty way I acted earlier. 

"I see." 

Jim was saved from continuing the conversation by a knock on the door and his brother entered. "Jim, Captain Banks needs to speak with you for a moment, if you're able." 

"Okay. Thanks, Stephen." Jim studied his father for a moment longer, but was unable to read his expression. "Well, I didn't really mean to drop this on you...here. I had no intention to say any of this today. It just sort of..." 

"Yes, I understand," William said, suddenly smiling. He yawned, then apologized for his weariness and shooed Jim off to talk to his boss. As soon as Jim was out the door, his expression turned dark and he reached for the telephone. "We'll just see about this, Jimmy." 

* * *

Blair clicked the 'save' button and shut down the computer. Okay...Naomi was trying to warn us about something, but what? She had written in the message to watch out, watch their backs - but for who? Who was she talking about? Theirry? Geez, what was with the cryptic shit? Why couldn't she just come out and say it? Sometimes his mom got a little carried away with her games. 

* * *

"I just spoke with Joel on the telephone," Simon informed Jim when he stepped out from his father's room. "We now know that the two men who showed up at your place were definitely not Feds." 

Jim sighed, nodding his head slowly as he stared absently across the hallway. "That doesn't surprise me. It just seemed a little fishy, the timing and everything." 

"So now we have to figure out who these guys really were and what they were after." 

"Yeah, well, my guess is they were after information on Naomi, just like they said. Who they were though...well, that's kind of a scary thought. I mean they could have been members of that activist group she's supposedly a part of...and if they are, they could be dangerous. I-I'm going to..." 

"You might want to give Sandburg a call," Simon interrupted. "Just so he's aware and watching his back." 

"I think I'll do that, Sir." Jim smiled and headed for the payphone. 

* * *

"Look you guys, I am not going anywhere with you unless I see some ID," Blair stated firmly as he backed away from the two men. 

"We already showed you our ID, hippie boy," Michaels said in a low voice. He and his partner were advancing on Blair, one on either side. Michaels stopped by a shelf adorned with books and knick-knacks. He picked up a small glass figurine, looked at it carefully then dropped it to the floor, shattering it. "Oops, how clumsy of me." 

Distracted by this action, Blair didn't catch the movement on his other side until it was too late. Johanson struck him on the side of the head with the heavy butt of his revolver. 

"That wasn't very smart. How do you propose we get him out of here now?" Michael's asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 

"I'll just toss him over my shoulder. He ain't very big." 

"Don't you think that might look a little suspicious to anyone who might happen to notice us carrying an unconscious man out of his apartment?" 

"We can just say we found him sick and we're takin' him to the hospital," Johanson explained matter-of-factly. 

"Why me?" Michaels asked to nobody in particular. "Well, I guess we'll have to do just that. Be quick about it." He gestured toward the unconscious form lying on the floor. 

Johanson bent over and hauled Blair up by his arms then maneuvered him onto his shoulders, fireman style. "Ready." 

Michaels opened the door, moving aside to allow Johanson to pass. As they stepped into the hallway, they were met by two imposing figures, one placing the barrel of his gun directly on Johanson's cheek. 

"Back inside, gentlemen." The man with the gun ordered. 

"You'd better hope he's all right." A woman's voice warned. "Put him on the sofa...carefully!" 

Johanson warily kept an eye on the others as he moved back to the long sofa and placed Blair on it. 

"Hands up." The man said to Johanson as he removed the weapon from Michael's shoulder holster and handed it to the woman. 

"Oh Theirry, you know I hate these things," she complained, even as she undid the safety and aimed it at the stocky man. 

Her accomplice didn't comment, he just continued frisking Michaels then deftly cuffed him. He moved over toward the other man and repeated the procedure as the woman sunk down on the couch next to Blair. 

"Blair? Sweetie? Can you hear me?" she asked loudly in his ear. "Oh Theirry, he's bleeding!" 

As soon as Johanson was handcuffed, Theirry made a cursory check of Blair's condition. "He needs to go the hospital, but I'm pretty sure he'll be fine, mon cheri." 

"But he's bleeding! How could you?" Glaring, she stood and moved toward Johanson, her jaw set and looking every bit like an angry mother bear. "You. Are. An. Evil. Man!" She shouted poking him in the chest several times for emphasis. The phone rang distracting her and she and Theirry looked at each other, unsure of what to do. The machine picked it up on the third ring. 

"Chief? You there? Pick up if you're there." 

"It's Jim!" Naomi exclaimed, dashing for the phone. "Oh Jim, you have to come quickly. Blair's been hurt and he's bleeding! Theirry says he'll be okay, but I can't get him to wake up and..." 

"Whoa! Whoa! Naomi? Is that you?" 

"Well, of course it's me, Jim. How are you? I know it's been a long time and you probably have a million questions to ask me and hopefully I'll be able to visit with you longer very soon, but for now you just really need to come home because my poor Blair is bleeding and he needs you!" 

"W-Wait a minute! What the hell is going on? What happened to Blair?" 

"Some very bad men hit him in the head and believe me, they are going to regret it for a very long time!" She gritted her teeth casting an angry, determined glance at the two prisoners. 

"Okay, stay right there. We'll be there in a few minutes." 

"Okay, Jim," she agreed, her tone again becoming lyrical. "Just hurry, dear." Hanging up the phone, she turned to Theirry, giving him a questioning look. 

"We have to get out of here, fast." 

"What about Blair?" She moved to the couch and gently brushed her hand through his hair. "Blair, darling? Please wake up. I want to see if you're okay." 

As if on cue, Blair moaned, his eyelashes fluttering a bit as he stirred then went still again. 

"Naomi, I assure you, he'll be fine. The cops will be here very soon. We really need to go," Theirry pleaded, pushing the two handcuffed men toward the door. 

Naomi looked lovingly down at her son then softly kissed his cheek. "I love you, Blair," she whispered. "I'll see you soon, sweetie." 

Theirry was already standing out in the hallway, waiting impatiently when Naomi rose from the couch. Glancing back one last time, she hurried out to the hallway, closing the door behind her. There were sirens audible in the distance as the four figures got into the dark sedan and drove away. 

* * *

Jim's truck came to a screeching halt outside the building on Prospect. Simon Banks was close behind and when the two officers got out of their vehicles, Banks threw his detective a disbelieving look. The man drove like he was the only one on the road. 

Cautiously, they entered the building, taking the stairs to the third floor. Weapons drawn, they pushed open the door numbered 307. Jim extended his hearing, picking up only one heartbeat, but kept his gun ready just in case. He found Blair on the sofa and as he bent down to check him out, he easily distinguished the scent of Naomi's perfume. 

Simon thoroughly checked the apartment, looking in every room before joining Jim next to a slowly rousing Sandburg. 

"I'll call for an ambulance, Jim," he said quietly, snatching his cell phone out of his jacket. 

"Hey, Chief? Can you hear me, buddy?" Jim tapped his partner's cheek lightly. "Simon, I need a towel or something. He's got a pretty good gash on his head, here." 

Blair blinked his eyes, struggling to get them to open. "Jim?" he asked, his voice raspy. 

"Yeah, buddy. It's me. Take it easy," he soothed. "Do you remember what happened?" 

Blair reached up to touch his head, seeming disoriented. "What happened?" 

Jim took hold of his hand, distracting him from touching the wound. "That's what I just asked you." 

"Umm...those two Fed guys came back. They got inside somehow but I didn't let 'em in, Jim. I wouldn't do that again, man. They wanted me to go with them...ummm...they hit me in the head, I think? Head hurts." 

"Yeah, it looks like they hit you good, Chief. Just stay still." 

Simon came over, handed Jim a towel and watched as Jim placed it over the wound on Blair's head. "How's the kid doing, Jim?" 

"He's got a pretty good sized bump on his head, Sir, but the gash isn't bleeding as much as it looks like it was before." He took in the amount of blood on the floor and on the couch and had to remind himself that head wounds bleed a lot. 

Blair tried to get up. "Did you catch them, Jim?" 

"Whoa, take it easy, Chief. Just lie down." He gently pushed his partner back down on the couch, placing the towel back on the injury. "Do you remember anything else?" 

Blair closed his eyes. "My head hurts. Think I'm gonna..." 

Jim rolled him to the side just in time. "Shhh.... It's okay, you're okay." 

"Ambulance is here," Simon called out from the hallway. 

"Jim! Not the ambulance." 

"Come on, take it easy. Just settle down, you're gonna be just fine." 

He stood as the two attendants entered and was able to get a brief glimpse of his apartment. What was all over the floor in the kitchen? Lentils? 

* * *

Jim stood in the hospital room, looking out the window. "So, the Feds, the real Feds, that is, found those two clowns handcuffed together around a telephone pole about half a block away from the local federal building. Anonymous tip." 

"Oh, man." Blair laughed weakly from the bed. 

"The Feds are just happy they got at least two of the extremists, even though they aren't talking, so far." 

"Do they know if they had anything to do with your father being shot?" Blair asked. 

"A couple witnesses claim they saw Johanson at the scene, but there isn't anything really substantial yet. From what I saw, they have enough goods on those two already to put them away for a very long time." 

"God, I can't believe Naomi was right there and I didn't even know what was going on. I mean, I thought I could hear her, but I didn't really know, man. You're sure it was her, right?" 

"For the hundredth time, yes, I'm sure it was her, Blair." 

"God, I wish I could have...I wish at least I could have seen her...or something, you know?" 

"Yeah, I wish you could have, too." And he did. He'd have given anything to have been able to trade places with Blair, for nothing more than the fact that Blair would have gotten to speak with his mother. "Hey, at least we know she's okay, right?" 

"Yeah, that's good to know. That really does make me feel better." 

"So now you can rest a little easier, huh?" 

"Well that, too. Really though, I'm just glad she's alive so I can kill her the next time I see her!" 

"Right." 

"I'm serious, Jim." 

"Uh-huh. So, other than these minor homicidal tendencies you're having...how are you feelin', Chief?" Jim asked with sincere concern as he seated himself on the edge of the hospital bed. 

"I feel like shit. I want to go home," answered Blair with a frown. "Take me home, Jim." 

"How 'bout we hold off on that until morning?" 

"Aww...come on, man," Blair pleaded, albeit weakly. "You know I hate hospitals." 

"You took a pretty nasty one to the head, Chief." 

"You don't have to remind me. My head still hurts." Blair closed his eyes, resigned to the fact he'd be spending the night. 

"Right here?" Jim asked quietly, sliding his palm between the patient's thighs and smoothly caressing the bulge. 

"Jimmm..." Blair groaned. 

"That feel better, baby?" 

"Jim, stop," the younger man whined, spreading his legs even as he protested. "What if someone comes in?" 

"You're right, I'm sorry." He cleared his throat, reluctantly withdrawing his hand and tugged the sheets up, tucking them around his partner's shoulders. "There, how's that? Head feel better?" 

"That's mean, Jim," Blair muttered painfully. "And you just called me baby." 

"I did? Oh, yeah, I guess I did." Jim shrugged his shoulders. 

"God, how am I ever going to go back to sleep now?" Blair moved his own hand down to his half erect penis. 

"Chief, I don't think you're in any condition for that kind of strenuous activity," Jim advised, arching an eyebrow as he watched the hand moving under the sheet. 

Blair grinned, opening one eye and looking up at Jim. "Call me baby again." 

Jim grinned back, then placing a hand on either side of Blair's shoulders, he leaned in closer so they were face to face. "Baby," he whispered, knowing he was grinning stupidly. "When I get you home, Baby..." his expression turned sultry and he brushed his lips gently over Blair's. "I want you to do just what you're doing right now." He placed a hand over the one that Blair was touching himself with. "Only without any sheets or gown," he lightly ran his tongue over Blair's lower lip, "so I can see that beautiful body of yours. I want to see all of you, Baby, every inch of you...all hot and hard and sweaty and turned on for me." Blair moaned and Jim kissed him deeply, before suddenly pulling back and checking his watch. "Oh, look at the time, Chief. Visiting hours were over ten minutes ago." 

"Jim," Blair complained pitifully. 

"You really need to get some sleep, buddy." 

"Jim! Don't do this to me." 

"I love you." Jim kissed him on the mouth, the nose, each eye, then got up and started for the door. "Be back to get you in the morning." 

"I hate you; you know that, don't you? Don't leave me like this! This sucks, Jim! Get back here! You suck, Jim, did anyone ever tell you that before, huh?" 

Jim stopped at the doorway, a smirk on his face. "No, I don't think anyone has...but keep that thought, maybe we can further discuss the aspects of Sentinel sucking tomorrow when I get you home." He waggled his eyebrows and chuckling, he exited the hospital room. 

"Sentinels suck. You just wait, Jim, I'll get you for this." He heard Blair mumble then begin listing names. "Janet Reno, Margaret Thatcher, Ms. Hildegarde, in a thong ... Rosanne ...Simon in a thong...Joel..." 

Jim smiled as he listened to Blair, all the way out to his truck. He felt sort of bad, but he did have a huge mess to clean up at home and besides, he was already planning on how he was going to make it up to him tomorrow. 

* * *

"Blair? Blair, honey? Can you hear me?" 

Slowly, Blair crept back toward consciousness at the sound of the familiar voice. He opened his eyes, although it took him a moment to focus. He studied the frail looking figure standing over him. Silver hair, oval shaped glasses, and a bright, rose-colored blush had been applied heavily to her sunken cheeks, enhancing her pale complexion. From the dim lighting in the room, he could make out the faded floral print on the woman's dress. She held a black cane in one hand and a crochet shawl was draped over her shoulders. 

"Hi sweetie!" 

"Mom?" 

"Oh Blair, how could you tell?" 

Blair stared at her for a long moment, wondering if she was serious. "I can just tell. What are you doing here? I've been so worried about you, mom!" He reached up and pulled her into a fierce hug. 

"Oh sweetie, I'm so sorry. I know you've probably been a little worried and everything..." 

Blair pulled back from the hug, looking at her with the disbelief. "A little worried? Try worried sick, Naomi! What in the hell is going on?" 

"Well, it's a very long story, believe me! I wish I had more time to spend with you, but I really can't stay very long. Theirry is outside the door waiting. We have to get going soon." 

"You have to go already? You just got here! I haven't seen you for so long and I'm worried about you. Come on mom, you have to tell me what in the hell is going on!" 

"Calm down, Blair. I don't have time to go into details right now. I would if I could, but I just can't! Not right now, anyway. I just wanted to make sure you were okay and I had to see you before I left again." 

"Mom? Are you in the CIA?" 

Naomi laughed out loud. "Oh please, Blair! You know me better than that! Me? In the CIA?" Again, she laughed. 

"Well...then what's all this with Theirry and the Beings of Light business? You've got to admit it's all pretty weird!" 

"Okay, I'll tell you this much. No, I'm not in the CIA, but Theirry is, of course. I've just been sort of...helping Theirry out, dear. You know? Like you used to help Jim, before you became a real cop." 

"But what are you helping him do? Is it dangerous? Should I be worried?" 

"That's so sweet, Blair, but really...Theirry is very cautious and I completely trust him with my life!" She leaned in closer and whispered conspiratorially. "He's a spy." 

Blair almost laughed. "I know, mom. The question is, why are you with Theirry and what do you have to do with that anti-government organization?" 

"Oh them...well, that was a long time ago. We started the group when we were very young and idealistic." She sighed, getting a far away look in her eyes. "It was a wonderful group at first, really it was. We went all over, protesting things like pollution from big industries, global warming, government oppression, hunger...you know that kind of thing. We really thought we could make a difference, wake people up. It was a great experience, I have to admit. But then I had you and it got harder to attend all of the happenings, I guess I got a little disenchanted with the whole thing for a while. Anyway, at some point the members started getting frustrated and some started turning toward the use of more violent measures of protest and...that wasn't what the whole thing was supposed to be about. You know?" 

Blair nodded. This was all pretty much the way he had assumed the scenario in his mind. 

"This murdering and assassinating and all of that...well, you know how I feel about violence. Also, there are several big money corporations now that fund the Beings. I mean...those are the people who we were originally supposed to be protesting against and now some of them are actually the ones backing the group! The group tries to make excuses saying the end justifies the means and all that, but if you ask me, they've sold their souls." 

"But what about the CEO's that have been shot?" 

"Well, I have a theory there too. I think the other CEO's are probably just paying big money to get their competition. It's all much more involved than that, sweetie. Really, I can't go into detail." She glanced back at the closed door then smiled at Blair. "One big-wig even planned and paid for his own assassination attempt, just to take the heat off of himself. Things didn't go exactly as he planned though. He didn't intend to actually get shot." She laughed a little, glancing at him uneasily. 

There was a knock on the door and Theirry poked his head inside. "Naomi, we must go." 

"I'm sorry darling. I have to go." 

"But Mom..." 

"I'll talk to you as soon as I can, sweetie." She leaned over with tear-filled eyes and kissed him on the cheek. 

"Mom..." 

"Take care of yourself and give Jim my love." She smiled, tilting her head. "I love you." "I love you too, Mom." 

Then she was gone and Blair was left alone, his ears ringing in the now quiet room and he almost questioned whether her visit was real or imagined. 

* * *

I lie on my back at midnight  
Hearing the marvelous strange chime  
Of the clocks, and know it's midnight  
and in that instant the whole world  
swims into sight for me... 

Jack Kerouac 

* * *

He looked up at the clock on the wall, 12:01. He reached over and grabbed the phone from the bedside stand and dialed his own number. 

"Hello?" 

"Jim? You asleep?" 

"Hey, Chief. Uh, no...I'm cleaning. This place is a disaster. It looks like a tornado went through here. What are you doing up at this time? You should be sleeping." 

"I...I just wanted to talk to you, I guess. Besides the nurse will probably be in any second to wake me up." 

"How are you feeling?" 

Blair rubbed his forehead. His head was throbbing -- a sort of dull throb though, not as bad as earlier. "I'm okay. You should leave the mess for tomorrow and I'll help you clean up," he offered, knowing that Jim could never allow himself to do such a thing. 

"Yeah, right," Jim replied. "Chief? Tell me one thing. What in the hell are these lentils doing all over the floor?" 

"Oh...uh, I didn't get a chance to clean those up. Sorry, they were going to be dinner." 

Jim spotted the Turkish Cookbook on the counter. "Tell me you weren't planning on making one of those strange concoctions like the one you made last week?" 

"Strange concoction? I don't know what you're talking about. Trust me, you're going to love what I have planned." 

"Uh-huh. Sure I will." 

"Hey Jim? I gotta go. The nurse is here." 

"Okay, try to get some sleep and I'll see you in the morning. And Chief?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Love you." 

Blair felt his cheeks grow warm and a huge silly smile creep across his face as the nurse wrapped the blood pressure cuff around his arm. "Me too, Jim. See you tomorrow." 

* * *

"Are you sure, Thierry?" 

"I am absolutely certain. I made it very clear what will happen if he even attempts to threaten the boy." 

"Where do people like him get off thinking that they can run peoples' lives like that?" 

"Money, power...they become obsessed with being in control. That's my guess, anyway." 

"Well, money and power can't buy you love." 

Thierry smirked and looked out the small window watching the tiny dots of light below; he'd heard something like that before, somewhere. "No, but on occasion it can work in love's favor." 

A laugh. "Well, I suppose it depends on the motive and the individuals behind the money and power." 

"Yes, I suppose it does." 

No, money and power couldn't buy love, but a short time ago it had worked in her son's favor. It had ensured that Blair Sandburg and Jim Ellison would have one less obstacle to overcome in this thing they had chosen to endeavor together -- this thing called life. 

* * *

Thanks to Jane M. for letting Blair (and me) borrow her 'Sundays At The Moosewood Restaurant' cookbook! <g>


End file.
